[YokoTsuta]: 250.As the Night Goes On.Rainy Nights

Rain poured from the skies, a few scattered streetlights illuminating each drop as it fell. Trash from the alleys raced through the streets into the over-flowing gutters. A young man sat on a park bench, his thin black shirt plastered against his lean figure. Water dripped from his long bangs and made little ripples in the puddle by his feet.
 
A lone girl walked along the paved path towards the bench, her soaked blonde hair in her eyes. She sat down on the bench, unaware of the drenched man sitting not four feet away. She brushed her hair away from her face, pulling it back off her neck, tying it with a long blue ribbon.

She gazed up into the sky and blinked as rain drops fell into her eyes. She dropped her gaze and noticed the young man for the first time out of the corner of her eye. The girl closely examined the stranger. He had a trim build, strong and muscular his long sleeved shirt unbuttoned halfway. He sat hunched over, his bangs shadowing his face. The bangs were colored a deep shade of red, the rest of his short, messily spiked hair raven black. His pale skin cut through the darkness like a knife, almost as if it had a light of its own.

As she examined him, she noticed a bright green eye watching her from behind the red mask of bangs. She blushed, averting her gaze. His eyes remained focused on her. He raked his hand through his hair, moving his bangs out of his face. The girl hesitantly looked at him, their eyes locking. His eyes startled her, a radical and intense mix of emotions. A smile spread across his face, his teeth even whiter than his skin. She nervously smiled back, noticing the four sharp teeth.

Before she could move, he sat right next to her, still smiling that odd smile. She gasped softly. The young man gently covered her mouth with his hand, motioning for her to remain silent, quieting her gently, his green eyes sharply contrasting against his skin. His hand strayed to her loosely curled hair, fondly playing with it, twisting and curling it around his fingers.

“What is your name, girl?” he asked her in an elegant English accent.

She hesitated for a moment, then answered shakily, “H-Hana, Hana Odori.”

“Hana,” he whispered softly as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, “a beautiful name.”

His voice had a calming effect on her, dulling her senses and drawing her to him.

Her body shivered as she cautiously asked, “And your name…?”

“Riku Akashimi,” he answered, “but you may just call me Riku.”

He gently touched her neck again and leaned forward. Her vision swam in darkness; the image of the illuminated rain drops the last thing she saw before unconsciousness claimed her.